


Jingle Bells, Shotgun Shells

by airam06



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Destiel Christmas Minibang 2015, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-08 01:22:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5478011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airam06/pseuds/airam06
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam start a decorating war, which inadvertently causes Dean to deal with his feelings for Cas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jingle Bells, Shotgun Shells

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the DeanCas Christmas Mini Bang, Day 21: Decoration Wars.

Dean blamed Sam, but it had really all begun with horrible Christmas specials. Cas had exhausted Netflix in record time and turned to the limited stations the bunker was able to pick up on the antique tv set. Dean had grown used to walking into their living room to find Cas staring with a vacant smile on his face at Rudolph, It’s a Wonderful Life, and even Elf. Cas didn’t look like himself and it worried Dean. Maybe that’s why he gave in so easily when Sam brought home the snowman.

“What the hell is that thing?” Dean paused in the hall when he saw Sam dragging an enormous plastic snowman, one side of its head dented in and causing the happy smile to curl wickedly on its painted face.

“I found it at the dumpster,” Sam supplied helpfully, and Dean raised an eyebrow. “Look, Cas has been off for weeks. I thought maybe some decorations would make him feel better.”

“But with that?” Dean waved his hand dismissively, stamping down the worry bubbling up in his chest at the mention of the angel. “C’mon, man, it’s hideous.”

“It’s _festive_ , Dean!”

“Yeah, whatever. I bet you ten bucks I can find something worse.”

And so it had started. As Christmas moved closer, Sam and Dean each brought home the worst decorations they could find. Sam found a Santa beer can holder, a Christmas tree hat that sang Silent Night, and a stocking with a bong knitted on the front. Dean managed to find a fuzzy, psychedelic Santa toilet seat cover, multiple strings of lights made to look like shotgun shells, and a dancing snowman that twerked to “Get Low”. He had just set up the Santa in the quickly filling living room when Cas walked in to start his nightly Christmas show binge.

“Another one?” he asked interestedly, and came to stand beside Dean at the mantle, tilting his head at the newest decoration.

“Terrible, huh?” Dean grinned widely, but Cas just looked at him, confused.

“I think it’s perfect. You and Sam are doing a wonderful job of making the bunker feel like a home for me. Thank you, Dean.”

He patted Dean on the shoulder, and the man felt a familiar swoop in his stomach. He couldn’t deny that he was doing this for Cas, and instead smiled at his friend.

“Don’t mention it. You’re family.”

From that moment on, Dean was more careful in what he brought home. If Sam noticed, he didn’t mention it, and even started bringing home better looking things as well. It seemed to be doing the trick; a few days before Christmas, Cas started getting up and doing things around the bunker. He even went out on his own a few times.

Dean and Sam joined Cas in his movie marathon on Christmas Eve. They had made it halfway through A Christmas Story when Cas sheepishly pulled two boxes out from under the dilapidated sofa.

“I wanted to thank you both for what you’ve done for me the past few weeks,” he smiled and handed them each a box.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Sam said, pulling the wrapping paper off as Dean did too; once Dean saw what Cas had given them, his eyes widened.

“You _really_ didn’t have to do it,” Dean agreed, and he slid the fabric from his box out to hold it up.

It was a sweater. And not just a typical one; this had to be the ugliest sweater Dean had ever seen. It was bright red and green with an enormous cartoon-style cake knitted into the pattern. Above the cake, emblazoned in bright capital letters, were the words _fruit cake_. Dean mouthed wordlessly at it, and looked over to Sam to see his brother looking at an equally hideous sweater.

“Yours reminded me of Bobby,” Cas told Sam brightly.

Sam’s sweater had two glass balls knitted on it in red and green. The word _balls_ was inscribed below it in elegant cursive. Sam looked up at Cas’s hopeful face and smiled.

“It’s-it’s really something, Cas. Thanks.”

“I got myself one, too,” Cas said, and he pulled his own sweater out from behind the couch. “It didn’t seem right to wear it before you had yours.”

Cas slipped his sweater on over his head, and Dean bit back a laugh. Cas’s sweater was forest green and had a fuzzy white cat on it. Like the brothers’, Cas’s sweater also had words knitted on it, with his message being _Meowy Christmas_. He looked at the two men expectantly, clearly waiting for them to put their sweaters on as well. Dean barely even hesitated. While Sam watched with an amused look, Dean pulled the fruit cake sweater on over his shirt and straightened it, face pink. Sam gave an aborted shrug and put his own on as well.

Cas beamed at them, and Dean suddenly found it to be too warm in the room.

“How about we put the lights up?” Dean suggested quickly, standing to grab the lights he had brought home.

“The shotgun shell ones?” Sam asked.

“Do you see any others?” Dean shot back, and Sam grinned. “You’re going to have to help, Gigantor. You don’t even need a ladder.”

Minutes later, and still in their atrocious sweaters, they were outside in the blissfully chilly night. Dean was relieved; at least his face had an excuse to be red in the cold. Snow lay thick and heavy on the ground, and when Sam stretched up to put the last staple in for the lights, Dean saw his chance. He scooped a hand of snow up and compounded it into a ball, heaving it at his brother and nailing him perfectly in the small of the back. Sam let out an undignified sound and spun around. He narrowed his eyes and dove for a snowball himself, and the war was on.

Snowballs flew, turning more aggressive with time as the brothers reverted back to being kids again. Cas was dragged into it too when Dean accidentally hit him in the chest with a badly thrown snowball. The three men heaved snow at one another, and Cas distracted Sam with a perfectly thrown snowball to the face. At the same time, Dean scooped up a handful of snow and ground it into Sam’s hair.

“Truce!” Sam sputtered, wiping snow from his face and trying to get the sopping wet hair from his eyes. “I need a towel.”

Dean laughed, out of breath from the exertion, and waved his hand.

“Yeah, go on. Turn the lights on when you go in. I want to see how they look.”

Sam walked back to the bunker, shaking snow as he went, and plugged the lights into the outside outlet before closing the door behind him. Dean was pleased to see that all of the shells lit up in bright greens and reds. He heard Cas walk up next to him, and together they looked at the entrance to their home in the type of silence that only a snowy night can bring. Dean wanted to laugh at the lights, but when he turned to Cas to make some type of joke, the words died on his tongue.

Cas stared at the lights over their doorway with a serene smile on his face, eyes lit up. He looked more like himself than he had in weeks, and all Dean could do was watch him. Cas dragged his eyes away from the display and reached down to grasp at Dean’s hand. It caused Dean to blush pink, and he moved his hand to entwine their fingers together. Cas looked down at their fingers in surprise, and turned to face Dean fully, slowly reaching out to hold his other hand too.

“This is the best Christmas of my existence. Thank you, Dean,” Cas said, eyes searching the human’s.

“You don’t have to thank me. This started with me and Sam screwing with each other,” Dean admitted, and Cas nodded.

“Yes, I know. Is that still all that it is?”

Cas was giving him an out, a way to back away from this moment they had been barreling toward for years, and Dean briefly considered it. He could play this off, but he didn’t _want_ to. He wanted ugly Christmas sweaters and terrible decorations. He wanted Christmas lights shaped like shotgun shells and holding hands in the snow with his best friend. Dean wanted _Cas_.

“No,” Dean said quietly, pulling Cas closer then moving his hands out of the angel’s grasp to cup his face. “No, it isn’t.”

He leaned down toward Cas and stopped before their lips could touch, the cold air between their mouths turning warm with their breaths.

“Is this okay?” he whispered, lips nearly touching.

In response, Cas raised up on his toes and brought their lips together in a soft kiss. He wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist as their mouths moved together, and didn’t let go even after they broke apart. Dean kept his hands on Cas’s face too, and for a moment they just watched one another. Dean placed a kiss on the bridge of Cas’s nose and wrapped the other man up in his arms.

“You know, this is the best Christmas I’ve ever had too.”


End file.
